


Day Five - Arkham Knight AU//Bruised and Bloody

by elwon



Series: JayDick Week 2017 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Oral Sex, Restraints, Spoilers for Batman: Arkham Knight, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 19:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Heavy booted footsteps approach the door, there’s a tapping of a keypad and the locks in the door clunk open. Dick lets his head loll forward, hoping to fool his captor that’s he’s still unconscious. The footsteps enter the room, and there’s a thud as the door closes behind the figure that’s stepped in.





	Day Five - Arkham Knight AU//Bruised and Bloody

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Day Three - MirrorVerse//Restraints.

Dick has been struggling against the ropes tying him to the chair he’s trapped in for the last twenty minutes, and he’s still not found any give. Whoever’s kidnapped him has done an exemplary job at keeping the former boy wonder restrained. He tests the bindings on his wrists one last time before taking a break with a muffled sigh. From what he can tell, the chair is bolted to the floor, so there’s little hope of tipping it over to gain some slack in the rope. It’s also made of metal so it won’t break even if it wasn’t bolted. The gag in his mouth is tight enough that he can’t shift it out of the way and gain access to one of the lock picks hidden under the bird design on his chest plate, but not tight enough to tear at his chapped lips. 

His boots, belt and gloves have all been removed, and somewhat insultingly, placed on a table by the single door to the room. But Dick supposes that it’s also a little reassuring that they’re not completely lost. His mask is still on, which perhaps shouldn’t be reassuring. Either whoever took him doesn’t care who he is, or they already know. Neither option is good. 

Dick reviews what he knows, that he was doing a routine patrol in Blüdhaven, and that he got hit with some sort of knock out gas after stopping a mugging. Interestingly, the knock out gas used has had minimal aftereffects. He was a bit fuzzy after waking, but that cleared quickly and there’s no headache, nausea or dry mouth bothering him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that whoever took him was trying not to hurt him.

The room he’s being held in is cold and bare except for the chair he’s in, the table over by the door which has a bottle of water and what looks like a ration bar on it as well as his gear. The door looks like heavy duty steel set into concrete, and while there is some light from one bulb overhead, the creeping shadows on the floor imply there are at least two windows behind him, mostly covered with what are probably curtains. Dick can hear the faint lapping of waves, so he’s on the waterfront somewhere and there’s a familiar smell in the air that says he’s now in Gotham, but Gotham Waterfront doesn’t narrow it down much. 

From outside the room, in the hallway, Dick guesses, there’s a slight commotion. Heavy booted footsteps approach the door, there’s a tapping of a keypad and the locks in the door clunk open. Dick lets his head loll forward, hoping to fool his captor that’s he’s still unconscious. The footsteps enter the room, and there’s a thud as the door closes behind the figure that’s stepped in.

The lenses in Dick’s mask obscure his eyes, so he remains still while taking in the form of what appears to be a man. Tall and apparently pretty well built, Dick has a fleeting thought that if he’d met this guy in a bar; he’d have wanted to climb him like a tree. It’s a shame he can’t see the guy’s face, his blue helmet covering his while head (wait... are those bat ears? What the hell?) but the camo suit shows off his physique well enough. The man’s carrying a chair and he walks further into the room, setting the chair down far enough away that even if Dick did get his legs free, he wouldn’t be able to kick it. The man sits down in the chair, straddling it with the back facing Dick. For a moment he’s powerfully reminded of how Jason used to sit in chairs before Alfred would give him that look of disappointment that always convinced him to sit properly.

“You can drop the act. I know you’re awake, Nightwing.” The man says, voice hidden by a modulator. It makes him sound gravelly, like he’s some sort of Batman wannabe. Which might explain the ears on his helmet at least. “I know, I know, Batman always told you to try and get as much intel as you could before admitting you’re awake. But between you and me, don’t waste your time.” Dick lifts his head at that, confused and pissed off.

“I’m gonna say my piece, and then if you’re a good boy, I might decide to take that gag off you, so behave yourself, pretty bird.” The man shifts in his seat, tilting his head at Dick. He seems to be waiting for something, so Dick figures what the hell, and nods once slowly.

“Good. Glad to see you’re playing the game.” The man rests his arms on the back of the chair. “So you’re wondering who I am and why I brought you here. Not that you actually care who I am, but I’m the Arkham Knight. And as to why you’re here, well, that’s simple. I want you out of the way for tonight’s festivities. If you were free, you’d rush to help the big bad bat and get caught in the crossfire. You’ll be safe here. No one’s going to hurt you, and if they try they’ll answer to me. So you just sit there quietly, and then when it’s all over, you’re free to go.”

The Arkham Knight stands up, going over to the table and picks up the bottle and the ration bar. And ok, there’s seriously no way Dick’s calling him that, not even in the privacy of his own head. Dick settles on Arkham. He stalks back over to Dick, slipping a finger under his gag and waits to Dick to signal that he’s not going to try anything. Dick nods again, and he slips the gag out of Dick’s aching mouth. 

“You want some water? Something to eat? It’s not poisoned or drugged.” Arkham tells him, holding up the bottle, ready to twist the lid open so Dick can drink.

“Just water.” Dick says, working his jaw lightly. Arkham opens the bottle and lifts it to Dick’s lips, tipping it up gently so Dick can swallow the cool water down.  
Once he’s finished the half the bottle, Arkham takes it away and sits back down in the chair, slouching down while studying Dick back as Dick openly looks for clues for his identity.

“Why?” Dick mutters and Arkham perks up a little from his slouched position. “Why do you care if I get caught in the crossfire?” Arkham tilts his head again and Dick gets the distinct impression that the man is grinning behind his mask. “You don’t seem like you’re intimidated by me. You used a variant of knock out gas that has minimal side effects. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about my well being. But you don’t know me, so why?” 

“Oh, I care.” Arkham spits out suddenly. “And I know you, Dickie.” Dick tenses, he’d been hoping that Arkham hadn’t taken off his mask out of some sort of honour, much like Deathstroke, but if he already knew, then Dick’s in deep trouble.

“Who are-” Dick’s question is cut off by the man lunging at him, grabbing the gag and shoving it back into Dick’s mouth.

“Now that’d be telling, wouldn’t it?” Arkham whispers, pressing the face plate of his helmet close to Dick’s face. “But I guess I could give you a coupla hints, in the spirit of sportsmanship. Hmm, let’s see. What should I say?”

Dick blinks at the conspiratorial tone that manages to come through the voice modifier. So much of this feels familiar, nostalgic even. 

“How’s this for a memory jogger? You were my first kiss.” Arkham presses their foreheads together. “And here’s another. According to my sources, you were the only one still looking for me, months, years later. No? Not ringing any bells?” Dick has a horrible sinking feeling, an idea half formed that he doesn’t want to believe in the slightest. “Really, Goldie, and here was I thinking you were more than just a pretty face.” 

No, it can’t be. It can’t be Jason. It’s not possible. There’s just no way it could be _Jason_. His little wing is dead. This mad man can’t honestly believe he’s Jason, right? Arkham tilts his faceplate so it’s pressing uncomfortably on Dick’s lips in a parody of a kiss.

“You don’t believe me do you?” Arkham hisses, keeping his helmet mashed up against Dick’s face. “Well, that’s ok, Dickie. Come tomorrow I’ll prove it to you. Just you wait.”

Arkham tears himself away from Dick, standing a few feet away, panting. Dick stares wildly at him, horrified. It can’t be true. But oh god, if it is. If it is...  
Arkham walks backwards to the door, dropping the water bottle on the floor along with the ration bar, keeping his gaze on Dick as he drags the chair after him. He thumps on the door, waiting for it to open and Dick can’t look away from him. It is him, it’s Jason. He’s alive. He’s alive and keeping Dick captive so he can’t help Bruce. This is the epitome of be careful what you wish for.

The door opens and Jason flees through it. The door closes and leaves Dick in a waking nightmare. 

***

It’s well past dawn by the time Dick finally frees himself from the ropes. It had taken far too long to get out of them, a testament to the Jason’s skill at restraints. Once he’s got all his gear back on, barring his communicator, which he’s not surprised is missing; he picks open the lock on the door to get the hell out of there and contact Bruce. The place seems to be quiet and the hallway is deserted when Dick leaves the room. He moves as quickly and silently as he can, down the hallway and down a flight of stairs. There’s no one around at all, but there’s a TV playing in one of the rooms on the second floor, showing what looks like a loop of newsreel that Dick only catches the last few seconds of. The explosion fades out into much grainier footage of Scarecrow shooting Robin before revealing Batman strapped to a gurney. Gordon is forced to pull Bruce’s cowl off, and Dick feels his knees go weak. It’s the second worst case scenario, and Dick can barely think as Crane injects Bruce with a massive dose of Fear Toxin and Dick hopes like hell that Bruce had already taken the antidote. 

Bruce laughs hysterically, and chills go down Dick’s spine because Bruce should never laugh like the Joker. Bruce’s eyes flash green, and Crane pontificates when Bruce tells him he’s not scared. Suddenly two shots ring out and Bruce has an arm free. There’s a reflection on one of the monitors in the background of the footage and Dick recognises the figure of Arkham - no - Jason holding a rifle. He’s changed his uniform slightly since Dick last saw him, the A design covered up in red paint in a stylised form of a bat. He’s ditched the blue bat eared helmet in favour of a red one, but there’s no doubt in Dick’s mind that it’s Jason. He’d helped Bruce! Dick can only hope it’s a good sign.

Bruce wins the struggle between him and Crane, not that Dick would have expected different. Crane gets a massive dose of his own toxin and the grainy footage ends, replaced with the much smoother footage of the exterior of Wayne Manor at dawn. Dick breathes hard, clenching his fists as he watches Bruce land the Batwing on the front lawn of the manor, and in the Batsuit but without the cowl, walks over to the door where Alfred stands waiting for him. Moments after the door has closed behind them, and the reporters are telling the audience what they already know, there’s a huge explosion and Wayne Manor begins to burn to the ground. Dick falls to his knees and screams.

After he’s screamed himself out, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself and pushes up off the floor. Bruce and Alfred might be gone (oh god _why?_ ) but Tim and Barbara will need his help and Dick needs to focus on that before he falls apart. He forces himself to leave the room, creeping down the next flight of stairs with no plan but to get to Oracle and Robin. That plan is derailed once he sees a man sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a red helmet next to him. Dick’s moving before he can think, reacting on instinct to tackle Jason to the ground. They land hard, Dick pinning Jason down on his back to sit on his torso, Dick punches him twice, once in the eye, and again in the mouth. He raises his arm to punch him again in that obscene brand on his cheek before he realises that Jason’s not defending himself. He’s just lying on the floor letting Dick do what he wants, eyes glazed over and bloodied lips moving as he repeats a litany of “I killed him...” 

Dick’s fist lands uselessly on the ground next to Jason’s head. Jason doesn’t even blink. Dick feels what’s left of his heart break. He pulls Jason up by the shoulders, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and hides his face in the space between his arm and Jason’s neck. Dick lets the sobs out, lets the tears fall from his eyes. He’s got Jason back but he’s lost Bruce and he can’t keep the swelter of guilt and sorrow in anymore.

Dick stiffens as he feels Jason’s arms come up around his waist. Jason holds him tight but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just lets Dick grieve. Dick tightens his grip on Jason, arms and legs both. Jason’s like a rock, grounding him and keeping him together. He feels like the only solid thing in Dick’s life now, and he can’t lose him again, no matter what.

***

Jason’s kisses taste like guilt and desperation, and Dick can’t get enough. He lets Jason grab him, one arm around his waist dragging him close and up onto his toes. Dick goes easily, enjoying the power and strength that Jason has such control over. His back slams into the wall as Jason pins him there, kissing him ferociously. Jason bites his lip hard, and Dick lets out a muffled noise as he breaks the skin and blood wells up in the bite. Jason’s grip on his waist is like steel, and the hand cupping the back of his neck is holding tight enough to leave bruises from Jason’s fingertips on the underside of Dick’s jaw.

Dick would like to say he saw the kiss coming, but truthfully he hadn’t. He and Jason had just taken out a drug runner’s operation, destroying the meth lab with a few too many explosions in Dick’s opinion, but it had made Jason’s eyes light up during the planning they’d done earlier; and that was still a rare enough thing that Dick had offered no objections to using that many bombs.

Jason catches him by surprise on the rooftop after the last of the C4 has gone off, pulling off his helmet and smiling widely. Dick couldn’t take his eyes away from that smile, the one he hadn’t seen since before Jason ‘died’. Jason had stalked over to him, wrapping an arm around Dick’s waist and pulling him in until Dick had thudded against his chest. It took seconds to happen and Dick felt like he was in a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. A dream where Jason was never taken from them, and Bruce is simply taking a rare night off to stay in the Manor with Alfred, and Jason and Dick are sneaking around stealing kisses from each other for nostalgia’s sake.

But it isn’t a dream, and the weight of Jason pressing him into the wall, the sting of Jason’s teeth in his lip and the grip on his neck break him out of his daze. Dick rests his hand on Jason’s biceps, wishing he could feel the muscles move through Jason’s body armour and leather jacket. Jason drops his arm from Dick’s waist and picks him up with ease. Dick automatically wraps his legs around the solid body holding him and kisses back frantically, scared that Jason’s going to slip through his fingers and out of his life once more. 

Dick scrabbles at the catches of Jason’s body armour, trying and failing to open it while yanking hard on the seams. Jason seems to be in no hurry to help, licking and biting into his mouth until Dick tastes his own blood on his tongue and feels the rumble of pleasure that emanates from Jason’s chest. Jason bites down his jaw and neck, leaving stinging bruises in his wake and Dick can only moan helplessly, clinging to Jason’s clasps and rocking his hips as much as he can.  
He doesn’t remember Jason being this rough before. Not that Dick’s complaining. He’d always wanted to get a little wilder with Jason, but Jason had always wanted to keep it gentle, and Dick had never been able to deny Jason what he wanted, then or now, it seems. Jason slides his hand up and around, pulling at Dick’s uniform until he gets a gloved finger under the waistband of his pants and yanks hard at it, dragging it down Dick’s thighs until he has easy access to, well, everything. 

If Dick was paying attention to anything but the man in his arms, he’d feel embarrassed about being so exposed, but all Dick wants is _more_.  
Jason wraps his big strong gloved fingers around Dick’s already hard cock and gives it a gentle squeeze. Dick keens, and Jason lifts his head from where his mouth has been worrying at the skin of Dick’s neck to cover Dick’s mouth with his own and swallow the noise. Jason begins stroking Dick, the rough texture of his gloves sending shocks up his spine and Dick’s eyes roll into the back of his head. It takes embarrassingly few strokes, and then he’s on the verge of coming already. He usually he has far more stamina than this, but the suddenness and situation and Jason himself have caught Dick off guard and he wants to weep for the maelstrom of emotion that Jason effortlessly causes in him.

Jason twists his hand without warning and Dick comes hard, spurting white all over his chestplate. It’s obscene and more than a little dirty, but Dick couldn’t care less right now. The look on Jason’s face, surprised and proud and maybe even a little awed, well, it does something for Dick that he can’t even put into words. Jason lets him drop down onto unsteady legs, an unreadable expression crossing his face and Dick doesn’t want any bad thoughts for either of them here, so he twists them until Jason’s resting back against the wall and giving him a look that Dick knows means he’s about to be in trouble.

Before Jason can start to complain Dick drops to his knees, hands at Jason’s waistband and fingers slipping the button and the zip open. He knocks Jason’s jock and cup out of the way, pulling out his cock and gently trailing a finger up to the tip. Jason’s not as hard as Dick would like him to be, but he’s not going to let that stop him. He takes a breath and sinks his mouth down over Jason, sucking lightly and looking up at Jason. He’s staring down at Dick, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Jason’s hands are gripping at the broken brickwork, nearly crushing the crumbling blocks as he shudders and tries not to thrust. Dick swallows slightly deeper, moving his hands to grip Jason’s. He lifts Jason’s hand to rest on his head, feeling it spasm before tangling in his hair. 

Dick bobs his head, the taste of Jason on his tongue making him moan, the noise muffled by the thick length holding his mouth open. His lips feel swollen and wet, and Dick thinks he must look a mess; arse hanging out, cum on his chest, drool and blood on his chin. Jason shifts his stance, leaning forward a little and tightening his grip on Dick’s head. Jason thrusts shallowly, keeping his eyes on Dick’s, and the contact sends frissons of pleasure down Dick’s spine. Dick groans, gripping at Jason’s hand harder and nodding as much as he can in Jason’s grip. Jason thrusts a little deeper, taking over. Dick flicks his tongue over the tip each time Jason pulls back and sucks more as he pushes in. 

Jason tilts Dick’s head back forcing his cock deeper until he’s hitting the back of Dick’s throat and Dick gives choppy little moans of encouragement as often as he can. Jason panting above him, barely making any noise at all, but his eyes are still fixed on Dick’s, even as he pushes in deeper and almost but not quite holds Dick’s head in place. Dick works his throat around Jason’s cock as best he can, swallowing and sucking until Jason’s all the way in, Dick’s lips and nose pressing against skin. Dick can feel the blood and drool that’s dripped down his chin stain on Jason’s pants. Dick goes to pull back but Jason holds him in place, grunting under his breath and Dick feels the heat of his come splash deep down his throat. Dick keeps sucking until Jason pulls out, leaning back against the wall and staring up at the dark Gotham sky above them. 

Dick stands up, tucking Jason back inside his pants, and leans in for a kiss. Jason wraps his arms lightly around Dick, stroking the back of his head while he presses gentle kisses to Dick’s mouth like he’s apologising for being so rough. Dick clings to him, grief and regret and a quiet, fierce joy whirling around in his chest like a hurricane. 

***

The ringing of the doorbell sends Dick into a panic. He flails to his feet, dropping the book he hadn’t been reading in favour of sleeping on the couch to the floor, while Jason snorts from his sprawl in the nearby armchair. Dick isn’t expecting anyone; Tim and Barbara should still be on honeymoon, and anyone else would give him a phone call to make sure he’s even in Gotham right now. The doorbell rings again, and Jason raises an eyebrow at Dick. 

“Hide!” Dick hisses at him, pulling his shirt down from where it’s riding up.

“How long are we going to keep doing this, Dick?” Jason sighs, slipping a scrap of paper into his book in lieu of a proper bookmark. “Barbara and Drake are going to work it out eventually. Might as well get it over with.”

“We’ll talk about it later! Go.” Dick waves at him to go into the bedroom, and Jason rolls his eyes, but goes, taking his book with him. Dick takes a deep breath, centering himself and goes to answer the door. He peeks through the peephole, and his eyes widen when he sees Tim, of all people, standing in the hallway. He opens the door and plasters a wide smile onto his face.

“Tim! When did you guys get back? I thought you weren’t due back till next week.” Dick says, standing awkwardly in the doorway so that Tim can’t walk in.

“Hey Dick, yeah we came back early. Barbara was getting twitchy at the thought it was just you in Gotham. Consider this your warning if you’ve been slacking off.” Tim smiles, holding out a small gift bag to Dick. “Your souvenir. I need to get back, but I’ll see you later on patrol.”

“Well, seems like there’s a new guy in town, actually, so it’s not just been me. But yeah, I’ll see you later.” Dick feels like the smile on his face has frozen and broken, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice.

“A new guy? Man, Barbara’s going to want all the information you have on him.” Tim smiles, in the lazy way that someone who’s just been on a truly relaxing vacation can.

“In that case, I look forward to being grilled by her.” Dick hopes his wince isn’t too obvious, but from Tim returning grin he hadn’t hid it as well as he’d hoped.

“I need to get back, but I’ll see you later on patrol.” Tim says, as he turns to leave.

“Yeah, later...” Dick closes the door and rests his head against it for a moment. The very last thing Dick wants to do is try to explain the Red Hood to Oracle. He pushes away from the door and sits back down on the couch as Jason comes out of the bedroom.

“Boy, am I glad I’m not you, Dickie.” Jason smirks, ruffling Dick’s hair as he walks past him to the kitchen. Dick rests his head in his hands as he tries to think up a story about Red Hood that Barbara will accept and Jason won’t veto. Sometimes Dick really hates being the eldest of their group.

***

Jason’s kisses still taste like guilt and desperation, and Dick still can’t get enough. He lets Jason push him down onto the bed, pressing his hands down either side of his head so he can’t reach out and touch Jason. Dick manages to slip his fingers between Jason’s. The desperate kisses gentle into something sweeter, and Dick lets himself enjoy the weight of Jason resting on top of him. 

They haven’t had sex since that first time, weeks ago now, and the last few times Dick had tried to touch him while they were kissing, just gently resting his hand on Jason’s chest; Jason had violently recoiled, stumbling back until he was fully across the room from Dick, eyes wild and hands held out in front of him in defence. 

Dick wishes he could go back in time and kill the Joker for what he’s done, that he’d tortured Jason for so long that his automatic reaction to touch is to run from it. Being touched can’t happen, but if Jason’s the one doing the touching - the one in control - then he’s far less likely to freak out. It had taken Dick a long time before he’d felt comfortable asking Jason why: 

_“You’re sure it’s not because you’ve got more scars? Because you know they don’t bother me, right?” Dick makes sure to keep his voice neutral, Jason’s already tense and Dick doesn’t want to turn this conversation into an argument._

_“It’s not the goddamn scars, Dick. I don’t care about them. I just... I don’t wanna be touched, okay?” Jason sighs, pulling another shirt on. Dick wonders if he should tell Jason that clothing really isn’t armour against the traumas he’s been through. Somehow he doubts it would help much._

_“Jason...” Dick trails off, not really knowing what to say. He’s supposed to be the chatty one, but so often these days he’s left without words._

_“It’s not you, okay? It’s not anything you do.” Jason says. “It’s..._ Fuck, _I don’t want to talk about this. It’s what_ he _did to me. I just... if I can’t see it coming, I... I don’t wanna hurt you, but my body wants to protect itself, yanno?”_

Eventually the sweet, gentle kisses turn sleepy, and Jason rolls off him enough that Dick can turn onto his side and rest his head under Jason’s chin as they drift off. As long as Dick keeps his hands tucked under his arms, Jason doesn’t wake in a panic, and they both can get something close to a full six hours of sleep a ‘night’. It’s as much of a compromise as either of them will allow, Dick needs Jason as close as he can keep him, and Jason’s still not used to letting anyone near when he’s feeling vulnerable. But they’re trying their best to be what each other needs, and that’s all anyone can ask for.


End file.
